A Fair Transaction
by Sachertorte-mit-sahne
Summary: Swindle does business with the wrong ronin, and ends up giving something more than fake ming teacups in exchange for his payment. SwindlexLockdown, impled lulzy dubcon; Edoverse, feudal-Japan-humanized-AU. Implied slash.


This is the first oneshot for Edoverse, my own pet TFs-as-humans AU set in feudal Japan that's taken over my mind lately. The story is the result of a writing game I played with Thermalflare this evening. The idea is that she gives me a prompt and I get writing. After a while, she gives me another sentence. I have to suddenly include it, and keep writing. After another period of time, she gives me a sentence fragment, and I must work it into one of my full sentences.

Mine were:  
Prompt 1: 'He swore on his mother's grave, but then he swore on just about anything.'  
Prompt 2: 'He decided that the only solution was to seduce him.'  
Sentence fragment: 'the stain on the wall'

* * *

  
**Title****: **A Fair Transaction  
**Pairing: **SwindlexLockdown  
**Continuity: **Edoverse  
**Wordcount: **1004  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Notes: **For the sake of atmosphere, I use a bit of Japanese in the dialogue. For those that aren't great big weeaboos, here's a key: _Domo arigatou gozaimashita_ = a very very formal thank you; _Hontou ni = _really/is that so; _Chotto matte_ = wait a minute; _Ja_ = "right!". If any of the above is wrong, it's because I'm going to fail my Japanese exam. C:

* * *

He swore on his mother's grave, but then he swore on just about anything. It didn't matter, in the end; if his mother's grave was what it took to persuade the ronin sat opposite him that the delicate china teacups were really Ming, imported direct from China, then his mother's grave was what Swindle would swear on. It did the trick; a few seconds groping in the sleeve of a kimono, and the evidently drunken man—Lockdown, he'd said his name was—pressed the little folded package of money into Swindle's hand. The merchant gave him a grin, as sincere as can be.

"_Domo arigatou gozaimashita_," he said, getting to his feet and bowing low. "You have made an excellent choice, sir."

"_Hontou ni_," replied Lockdown groggily. He was drunk and he was tired. He'd spent all evening haggling with the infuriating merchant, and the mixture of cajoling and wheedling and persuading and urging was taking its toll on his less-than-agile mind. The heat in the inn was high, fires burning in the hearths, and the sake was not much cooler, and this was a lethal combination to a man's mind.

Swindle shuffled around, kneeling and packing up his things, readying himself to depart. They'd agreed on the trade and concluded it; nonetheless, Lockdown couldn't help but feel as though he'd been somewhat ripped off. The teacups were… well, they were blue and white, and definitely something ceramic, not lacquer; but there was something about this one that definitely made him feel cheated.

Perhaps it was the atmosphere, perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps Lockdown would have done it anyway, but he felt like he wanted something more in exchange for his money.

He decided that the only solution was to seduce him.

"_Chotto matte,_" Lockdown rumbled, leaning back and regarding Swindle as the smaller man looked up curiously. "You're leaving?"

"Oh, I've got business to attend to," Swindle replied enigmatically, giving his customer a little smile.

"So soon? It's snowing outside; winter's coming on fast in this district."

"Yes, well," Swindle replied, getting to his feet and brushing off his tan kimono. "Time and business wait for no man."

"Time and tide."

"What?"

"It's time and tide," Lockdown replied, not really in the mood for Swindle's chipper attitude. "Not time and business. And you've got plenty of time, unless you fancy hurrying and freezing to death on the pass. The next village is at least ten miles away. Stay here," he concluded, giving the merchant a positively predatory grin. "Have a drink."

Swindle hovered. On the one hand, he didn't really want to. He made a point of not sticking around with customers after he'd concluded a deal; it was better for his health. On the other hand, this particular customer—all kitted out with at least three katana and what looked like a pair of kusarigama, and Swindle was willing to bet there were more weapons concealed on his person—looked like he might eat him if he didn't comply.

Swindle glanced around, procrastinating just a few seconds more, and finally sat down.

"_Ja_," he said, managing a smile despite his apprehension. "Sake it is, then."

Not one hour later, and Swindle was completely, helplessly drunk. He leaned with his elbow on the table, his face slumped into the palm of his hand and his lavender eyes not-exactly-fixed on the stain on the wall behind Lockdown's shoulder. The ronin had been bringing in the drinks, and pouring them, and even though Lockdown had had plenty to drink already the merchant was about half his size and obviously couldn't hold his drink very well. In fact, the taste of sweet, warm sake on his lips and Lockdown filling his vision, Swindle could barely pronounce his words properly.

Lockdown had stopped listening to the merchant's prattling a long time ago, instead focusing on the more pleasing aspects of the young man's company—such as his big lavender eyes, unusually wide for a Japanese, and the jet black hair that framed his face. Not to mention those pretty lips that Lockdown could practically _taste_, although on the other hand, perhaps that was just the sake.

Finally, Lockdown decided, Swindle was quite drunk enough. The ronin surreptitiously emptied the sake into his own cup and knocked it back, moving the jug away from Swindle.

"You," he said, "have had enough to drink, my friend. You're not gonna be able to stand up straight tomorrow." Though that will have more to do with me than the sake, Lockdown added mentally, with a private grin. He took Swindle by the shoulder and hauled the merchant roughly to his feet, ignoring his pitiful whine at the sharp movements and dragging him over to the innkeeper.

"My friend's got a little… out of control," Lockdown said coolly. "I think we'd better get a room. We'll never make it through the snow like this."

***

What a perfect plan, Lockdown thought, as he locked the door of their room—more of a cupboard, really, but fit for purpose—and dumped Swindle's backpack on the ground. He dragged the merchant over to the makeshift bed that occupied most of the room, ignoring the way the man stumbled over his own feet, and enjoying the way those slim hands bunched handfuls of his kimono for support.

"Down you go," he muttered, mostly to himself, dropping Swindle unceremoniously on the bed and kneeling next to him, divesting himself of the veritable armory he carried about under his kimono before turning his attention to removing Swindle's. The merchant was sprawled on the bed, his head turned to the side, lips parted and eyes fluttering. His whole expression was numbed with the alcohol, lacklustre; as far as Lockdown was concerned, it was perfect. Even if he still remembered what was going on in the morning, he certainly wouldn't put up a fight now.

And either way, he _definitely_ would not be able to stand up straight; Lockdown was determined to make absolutely sure of _that_.


End file.
